A Magical Life
by Tumblequ
Summary: Death isn’t the end, as Albus Dumbledore is about to discover. But back on Earth Harry has a confrontation with a Dark Lord he has to survive, and to get there, he has to change some fundamentals in his life– farewell Hogwarts! Harry's not coming back.
1. The Pianist

**PLEASE NOTE: **THIS FANFICTION CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR **HBP **AND **ALL** PREVIOUS BOOKS. If you wish to continue reading then please do, but Preoperative will not be held responsible for anything that disagree's with you on the topic of 'spoilers'.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not: own, plan on making any income, claim or take any credit for the wonderful series created by JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the following fiction and it is written with the innocent intention of enjoying myself (and spreading the love, hopefully).

**A/N: **I can't help but get the feeling that from this point on in time fanfiction is suddenly going to be getting extremely angsty, and I'm glad to share the love

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**A Magical Life:**

**By **Preoperative

With love

"You can't expect to give your life to someone, and not leave a little part of yourself behind" – behind the grave, **no one** is ever truly lost to us forever.

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_What is the worst of woes that wait on age?_

_What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?_

_To view each loved one blotted from life's page,_

_And be alone on earth, as I am now._

Lord Byron, _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_

**PROLOGUE**

_The Pianist_

Everything was silent at number four, Private Drive.

The house lay soundless and dark in the moonlight; the windows dark and obscured, reflecting the slightly clouded nights sky. For three o' clock in the morning everything was exactly as it should have been: the occupants of the house obviously in deep and calm sleeps; the strangely cool summer air lulling them into peaceful dreams.

Harry Potter lay on his bed in the smallest bedroom the house possessed. The window was tightly shut, and the door was locked from the inside. Instead of the customary sprawl his belongings made, the room was suspiciously bare. His school trunk lay open at the foot of the bed, a few books resting on top of the black school robes.

This year Harry was not trying to finish a school assignment late into the night. From this point on in Harry's life, there would be no school assignments.

Harry had attended his last ever school year, and it had ended in the death of his beloved headmaster. Harry knew, deep in his heart, that Albus Dumbledore's death was terrible for a great many reasons. But to the mourning boy, the only one he could think of; was that the man had left him alone.

The entire country of England was coated in the same thick fog that had clung to the houses, lawns and agapanthus for almost a year. The street lamps that lined the road below illuminated the mist, lighting the thick fog with an otherworldly glow but being unable to penetrate the clinging substance.

Inside Harry's room, Hedwig let out a long, mournful hoot, ruffling her wings as much as the small cage would allow. At the sudden sound Harry woke with a start.

For a few moments he lay on the bed rigidly, emerald eyes glowing in the dark as he tried to remember what he had been dreaming about. Hedwig's eyes aligned on her master, and she barely blinked as he suddenly swung up and around and off the bed.

"I'm going mad, Hedwig" Harry muttered as he buried his head in his hands. Hedwig hooted her agreement.

For the past week Harry had been reading and re-reading his textbooks and brooding. Although the underage wizardry act was still in place, Harry had been doing his hardest to learn and remember all of the spells he had studied in his first, and only, six years of school.

Sleep had become a minor luxury for the boy-who-lived and the relaxing break he had just been having was one of the rare opportunities in which he had been able to cut everything out.

Hedwig's eyes followed him as he stood up and rummaged in his trunk.

The letters on his desk told the story of what would be happening once his birthday came. Correspondence with his friends, and notes written to remind himself of certain things, all made his desk look cluttered and messy.

Next to a particularly mixed up pile of parchment there lay a book that Harry had taken from Dudley. Across the cover the words '_The Pianist' _spelled themselves out above the name of the author '_Wladyslaw Szpilman_'. It had been one of Dudley's school texts, but the large boy had left it behind last year, and it now sat quietly, waiting for Harry to turn seventeen. Because as soon as he did, the book would become the victim of a _portus _spell aimed at The Burrow.

Harry was dressed in baggy and worn jeans along with a white, crinkled, polo. A plain black robe was draped across the end of his bed, waiting, just as the book was, for July 31st.

Harry stood up slowly and stretched, leaving his hands so they covered his eyes even when he was finished flexing.

"It's so dark Hedwig. Has it always been this dark?" with his hands still covering his tightly shut eyes, Harry stood blindly in the centre of his small bedroom invisible tears trying to escape the prism of his eyelids. Hedwig ruffled her feathers once more, becoming even more subdued as Harry let out one enormous sigh and collapsed onto the desk chair, hands falling limply to his sides.

Indeed, it was darker than it should have been. The street lamps outside seemed unable to glow with their normal brightness. The moon was hidden behind black, angry clouds, and had remained so for far longer than was natural. The stars seemed more distant than ever; as if a huge blanket of frosty glass had obscured the heavens. Dark shades shifted everywhere you looked, the failing light only casting longer shadows.

The clock on Harry's desk read 11:53 in luminous white block-numerals, and a date at on the top-most note confirmed the day to be July 30th, if only for another seven minutes.

Harry restlessly sorted the stacks of paper into some order before pilling them up on his bed. A small rucksack, worn and scuffed was pocking out from under his bed, and he pulled it out slowly before placing it next to the small tower of parchment.

A quick check with the clock informed him only a single minute had passed.

With almost deliberate slowness, Harry packed the papers into the rucksack, adding to the collection by throwing in a toothbrush, a money purse, a small packet of owl treats, a filled water bottle, a stick of wood (which he had found in the garden with a strange resemblance to a wand), a packet of crisps and some chocolate frogs, not forgetting to add a well-worn photo album to the bundle.

The clock now read 11:58.

Harry walked over to his open trunk and pulled out a clean pair of black socks and pulled them on, a feeling of inexplicable excitement rising in his chest as the seconds ticked by. When his trainers where secured around his feet he grabbed the robe and pulled it on over his jeans and top, the front fashionably open.

11:59.

Harry shut and locked his trunk carefully before standing up and fingering his wand nervously, watching the analogue clock for the second it would tick over.

As soon as the small number flipped with a small click Harry swished his wand upwards with one hand, grabbed the bag with his other, shoved the now shrunken trunk into the front pocket of the rucksack and turned to his desk, a slightly nervous look on his face as he glared at the challenging book. An old and decrypt piano picture stared back at him, the hat of an officer percher on the lid.

"_Portus!" _Harry watched with fascination as the book glowed blue and wobbled for a moment before falling back into the exact same position.

He grabbed the book and muttered to himself, in precisely the same way Dumbledore had at the end of his fifth year: "One… Two… Three…"

Still looking at the clock on his desk (12:01) and, just as the doorbell rang downstairs and the loud questioning voice of uncle Vernon rang out he felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked from behind his navel… and the world of Privite Drive disappeared; for the last time.

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_To be continued…_


	2. The Kitchen

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Pianist_ which is a biography of _Wladyslaw Szpilman_, a brilliant Jewish pianist who lived through World War Two. The book is a very intriguing and informative read with some touching parts, but on the whole rather too melancholy and tragic for my tastes. I have the feeling that for Harry, it may be a little too close for comfort.

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**A Magical Life:**

**By **Preoperative

With love

_

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_

_Better by far you should forget and smile_

_Than that you should remember and be sad._

Christina Rossetti, _Remember_

**Chapter ONE**

_The Kitchen_

Harry stumbled slightly as gravity was suddenly re-imposed upon him, arriving in the middle of a dark and completely empty Weasley kitchen.

"I am _very_ glad that worked, Hedwig" Harry sighed quite audibly as his faithful owl fluttered from his arm, where she had rather quickly had to attach herself as it looked like her master would be leaving without her. She perched on Errol's, suspiciously Errol-free, roost.

Harry put the book he still held in his hand down on the kitchen counter with a thoughtful look, ignoring the annoyed scowl his owl was shooting him.

"I really should read that one day, Hedwig. Good literature, I hear" Harry flipped the cover absently and skimmed over the first chapter. His eyebrow rose so that it looked like it might almost fly off his face. Hedwig ignored him as he gently picked the book up, and threw it into the trash can (which snapped it from the air).

He shrugged off his rucksack with a sigh, feeling cheated out of a long journey. Everything had gone according to his plan, and while he wasn't complaining about it he still couldn't help but feel as if he had missed out on some grand adventure.

Originally Hermione had been most insistent that he should not, under any circumstances, try the _Portus _spell. But Harry had informed her that desperate situations called for desperate measures and the disappearance of the wards that had been protecting him since his parent's deaths was definitely a desperate situation.

She had reluctantly agreed, instructing him to practice the pronunciation, wand movements and thought process for the spell; seemingly convinced that he would be unable to perform it on his fist six attempts.

Harry allowed himself a small grin, well take _that _Hermione, a perfect _portus _spell, and on his first try to boot! His smile turned into a smirk as he imagined the look on his friends face when he told her. The look quickly disappeared as he thought back to the second just before the magic had pulled him away: the doorbell.

And what sane person visited number four Private Drive at Midnight on the eve of Harry Potter's birthday? No sane person. It seemed to him that he might not have had a second chance at casting the spell, and was suddenly very pleased to have gotten it right on the first attempt. He consciously stopped himself from thinking about the Dursley's.

The sound of a 'beep beep' alarm going off somewhere above his head banished the grim thoughts and he looked up at the ceiling with an amused smile. Vague voices could now be heard whispering, and Harry had to wonder at how the twins had ever managed to have any privacy with the walls so paper-thin and willing to carry the slightest sound.

He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down as more banging came from upstairs and the irate voice of Mrs Weasley joined the verbal fray. He heard her sudden shriek as if she was standing right next to him, and simultaneously heard the rest of the still sleeping house, awaken.

"HE'S COMING HERE? AND YOU DIDN'T SEE FIT TO **TELL ME?**"

Harry winced as footsteps thundered down the stairs as the meaning of the comment sunk in on everyone who had heard it (which composed of the entire Burrow).

He gallantly fought the urge to hide under the table.

"Harry, mate!" Ron came tumbling out of the narrow passageway first, quickly followed by a nervous looking Hermione who was shooting fearful looks behind her and a somewhat enraged, somewhat stunned Mrs Weasley.

Harry stood up with a grin and embraced his best friend with much macho thumping on the back before turning to the smaller brunette who was equally pleased to see him. He gave Hermione a warm, brotherly hug before becoming lost in Mrs Weasley's strongest embrace yet.

Molly pulled back finally and held Harry so she could have a good look at him. She shook her head exasperatedly and without another word bustled off to start up on some breakfast and tea.

More people began to shuffle into the kitchen and Harry was embraced by both the twins, Fleur, Bill and Charlie, Arthur, Remus, Tonks and Ginny.

Once the welcome's were over with, Mrs Weasley walked motherly up to him and handed him a pint sized mug of tea, which he was ordered to drink before coming back for more, and pushed towards a chair. The others had all managed to seat themselves around the table, leaving the position 'head of the table' for Harry.

He sat down slowly, eyes thoughtfully checking to see who was at the table and who was missing from The Burrow. He glanced up in surprise as Hedwig swept in to land on his outstretched arm. Ron let out a barking laugh that sounded rather a lot like Sirius, and Remus gave a gentle chuckle that reminded Harry far too much of the late Albus Dumbledore.

Harry gave himself a mental shake as he felt his face loose its colour.

As soon as he was seated properly he looked up to meet the waiting eyes of everyone else.

For a moment the expectation that was reflected in the different faces confused Harry. What was it that these people: friends and equals expected from him? He glanced away as he slowly felt the weight of Albus Dumbledore's death descend upon his shoulders, feeing them lower accordingly.

Molly's kind voice came from his left and he looked up to see her kind eyes smiling and encouraging him.

"Would you like to tell us how it you arrived here, Harry? None of the adults were informed of your arrival and it was certainly a shock for _me _to find out you were arriving tonight" as she said this she shot Ron and Hermione identical looks of disapproval, but finally returned her smiling gaze to Harry.

Harry looked at the trash-can, wondering if it would surrender _The Pianist _as evidence? A small puff of smoke curled from its lid and somehow Harry doubted it. Taking a steady breath he turned back to the faces all focused on him, ready to listen to what it was he had to say; whatever he had to say.

"Hermione, Ron and I have been planning this since the beginning of the holidays, Mrs Weasley. You see, when I left the Dursley's last year Prof…" he stumbled over the name before recovering "…Professor Dumbledore told both the Dursley's and me that the wards protecting me from Lord Voldemort would stop doing whatever they do when I came of age. And because we didn't think it would be a good idea for me to hang around the Dursley's for too long we decided that I needed a way to get here as quickly as possible"

Harry paused and sought out Hermione's eyes, giving her a small smirk that caused a look of confusion to momentarily cloud her face.

"The only ways I could think of being able to get here were Apparition, Broomstick or Portkey. Since I figured the Knightbus wouldn't be very reliable, what with Voldemort and all" everyone around the table nodded in agreement. Who would want to be travelling in a rickety old bus when there was a dangerous lunatic out looking for your blood?

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and picked up a butterbeer lid that was lying of the table.

'_Portus!' _With a small frown of concentration not un-similar to the look he had given _The Pianist_ the bottle cap glowed the same blue before going still.

The adults at the table all gasped with widened eyes and Harry heard Fleur say _'Zat is 'eeligal, is it not?" _to Bill. Tonks was looking mildly impressed with his wandsmanship and Remus had an unreadable look on his tired face. Fred and George were grinning ecstatically while Charlie was sending him a strangely knowing look. Ron and Hermione were looking smugly proud.

"I chose the portkey option, obviously." A small tittering of laugher swelled among his friends and Harry realised, somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that these people were looking at him or guidance, for understanding, for help. Somewhere along the way, just in the past five minutes, Harry had started acting like the brave, Gryffindoric hero he was supposed to be.

A felt a small condescending smirk curl on his lips, but hid it before any one else could see it.

Mrs Weasley was looking at the butterbeer lid appraisingly.

"So where will it take us then? Is it alright to touch? Does it have a time-set or password?" she asked as her fingers inched closer and closer to it. Harry was surprised by a suddenly clear image of first year Molly, a bundle of curiosity about all things magic. The mental image collided with one of Hermione when he had first met her, and he found himself smiling secretively.

"Yeah, the password is Kitchen. Because we're in a kitchen" he thought he heard one of the twins mutter _'inventive_' from somewhere down the other end of the table, but couldn't be sure. "Oh, and it'll take you to the corner store down from my Aunt and Uncle's house. You can keep it if you want, I don't ever want to go near that place again…" he trailed off softly and silence descended upon the table.

Mrs Weasley shook her head and replaced the cap, her curiosity sated. None of the others saw Ginny's small hand delicately reach out and grab the lid, slipping it into her pyjama pocket.

After a few more seconds of the uncomfortable silence Harry found himself shifting so he had a better view of Remus. He wanted to know what his father's last surviving friend thought of the trick. As he met Remus's eyes the amber-eyed werewolf rose one eyebrow delicately and mouthed one word: _'Impressive'. _A commotion down the end of the table made all heads turn towards Fred and George, who it seemed had just realised that this all meant it was Harry's birthday.

Loud cheering broke out and 'Happy Birthday's' were passed along to Harry, who floundered for a moment before a huge smile blossomed on his lips as his friends mobbed him with congratulations on his coming of age.

Harry felt that his day could not get any better.

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_To be continued…_


	3. The Burrow

**A Magical Life:**

**By **Tumblequ  
With love

* * *

_Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing._  
- William Shakespeare, _Sonnet 87_

**Chapter TWO**

_The Burrow_

"Well now, isn't it just wonderful Harry!"

After the impromptu birthday party that had been held in the kitchen, Harry had collapsed quite happily in the attic room with Ron, feeling light-headed with the amount of butterbeer he had consumed. He had slept dreamlessly until noon the next (or was it same…?) day when he had awoken to the heavenly smell of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen below.

He was now sitting at the table with Ron and Hermione while Mrs Weasley loaded their plates with mounds of food. Everyone else had left earlier for normal, or Order, work. At Mrs Weasley's exclamation he swapped confused looks with Ron.

"What's wonderful, Mrs Weasley?" he could feel his voice was slightly rough, as if he had only just woken up, but was attributing it to the fact he had stayed up laughing and talking until four o'clock that morning.

Mrs Weasley clucked to herself at his ignorance and wringed her hands excitedly, obviously bursting to tell them the news.

"Why, Hogwarts is being re-opened, of course! The teachers decided that it wouldn't do to abandon children in such needy times and the ministry agreed. Although I do hear that there are a number of rules that have been put in place that weren't there before" Mrs Weasley beamed at the stunned teenagers, either not noticing or not caring, that the three all looked equally devastated.

With one last motherly look she trotted out of the kitchen, apparently planning on giving the three of them time to plan for their upcoming school year.

As soon as she left the room Hermione turned expectantly towards Harry.

"I'm not going back there" Harry muttered as he noticed the way she was looking at him. Ron nodded his agreement, although it was obviously a little less sure than Harry's stoic insistence.

"Oh Harry, do you really want to leave and miss your last ever year of school?" Hermione sounded only mildly disapproving, because Harry got the impression that she wanted him to know that he was making the right decision.

Harry looked outside wistfully, remembering the first time he had come to The Burrow and seen the huge green fields, the unorganised vegetable garden and the crooked house. With a sigh he nodded to Hermione's question.

"Fred and George did it, and I think that our reasons are a little more serious than just having a disagreement with a teacher. Even if it is Umbridge. I think… We can do better things _outside _of school. Now that… Dumbledore's… gone" Harry cleared his throat and rubbed at suspiciously wet eyes.

Hermione and Ron were nodding along with him; equal determination shining brightly in both their eyes.

"The adults won't approve" Hermione pointed out, not so much objecting as bringing a possible problem to light.

"It doesn't matter. We're all of age now. They can't _stop _us doing anything, and I really don't think that they're going to try" Harry said softly.

Before either Ron or Hermione could comment the kitchen door burst open and Fred and George tumbled in, looking positively delighted as they saw the threesome sitting at the table. As soon as they picked themselves up from the floor they waltzed over, hands tucked in pockets.

"So –" Fred started.

"Back to school is it?"

"Thought you'd be able to miss out on it –"

"– but they tricked you!"

Ron rolled his eyes at the twin's antics, while Harry couldn't help but grin into his hand just a little, still amazed with the ability the twins had to seemingly read the others mind.

Hermione stood up and stretched, ignoring the twins altogether.

"Well I'm headed outside to get some sunshine. I've been cooped up like a pigeon for the entire holidays so far and it's been driving me _mad_!" Hermione said, sounding as mad as she claimed to be as she finished by slamming her fist down on the table.

At Hermione's comment Harry frowned a little, ignoring the twin's imitations of Hermione 'beating' the table.

"When _did _you get her, Hermione?" he asked her curiously, trying to mentally trace the days.

Hermione gave him a superior look.

"Last Friday, Potter. What you going to do about it?" Hermione said haughtily before winking suggestively and racing outside.

The four boys exchanged raised eyebrows as they looked after the excited brunette. After a moment George lent forward eagerly to Ron.

"So, waddya put in her breakfast, Ronniekins?" he tried to say in a 'conspirators' whisper. Ron blushed furiously and shook his head while Harry's eyebrow stayed glued firmly to his hairline. Fred tapped his wand against his chin, as if in deep thought. The purple sparks that fluttered out the end everything it connected with his chin ruined the impression a bit, though.

After a moment of the two brothers producing brighter and brighter sparks as they tapped their chins the two cried, in perfect unison:

"She's gone INSANE!" and promptly followed Hermione out the door in their search of a fellow lunatic.

Ron and Harry were left, eyes wide, staring at the space that only seconds ago had been occupied with two, quite crazy, wizards.

Harry gave Ron a sidelong look.

"Think we should go and help Hermione?" he asked, sounding incredibly reluctant. Ron grimaced and shook his head no.

"She can look after herself. I wanted you to show me that charm you had on conjuring material shields" Ron said in an attempt to change the subject. It worked, as Harry's face automatically became more serious and thoughtful as he fell into the 'fighting evil' funk.

Harry nodded and gestured upstairs, towards the boy's jointly shared rooms.

Ron grumbled as they climbed the stairs, muttering about apparating tests (or lack thereof) and the fact that Harry was so annoyingly young. Harry stayed admirably silent throughout the whole ordeal, his mind firmly focused on the spell that Ron had asked to be shown.

A spell that conjured a brick wall which to be used as a shield. A very solid and immovable shield… but a shield nonetheless.

Perhaps if he had known the spell before he could have cast it between the Headmaster and Snape… Perhaps… if he had…

It did not do to dwell on the past, Harry thought, as a wise, wise man had once told him.

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_To be continued…_

**A/N: **Sorry for the short chapter. Will make it up to you next time )


	4. Interlude

**A Magical Life:**

**By **Tumblequ  
With love

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"You can't expect to give your life to someone, and not leave a little part of yourself behind" – behind the grave, **no one** is ever truly lost to us forever.

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_He must not float upon his watery bier  
__Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,  
__Without the meed of some melodious tear._

- John Milton, _Lycidas_

**Interlude**

_In which we are given an observers gift…_

Today, wonderful things were going to happen.

But that did not change the fact that James Potter was not having a good day. A minor cause of this bad feeling was the sudden appearance of his old Headmaster in the Council Chambers.

Albus Dumbledore had appeared with very little warning, looking highly disturbed and extremely mournful. Not really an unexpected emotion, considering that the old man had just passed from the Land of the Living to the Land of the Dead.

What had surprised James, as he sat back and watched Albus in a languid fashion, was the fact that the man's face did not immediately begin to calm; his jaw did not slacken, and his eyes did not dull. After he had been standing in the middle of the conference room, watched by the sixteen adults present, for five minutes James decided to make a move, confused about why Albus was not becoming the type of drone that was an automatic response to death.

James stepped forward.

"Albus, what a… surprise" James said while attempting a smile, and failing miserably. It wasn't that he was unhappy about seeing Albus, although the man's death signified many things for everyone present in the room, he _was _unhappy that _something_ had gone wrong in the transfer between worlds.

And as James's job was to make sure that there were no problem with that same transfer he was greatly displeased to find that, at now of all times, there was a problem.

Albus's eyes focused vaguely on James and a look of confusion crossed his face.

"Harry? Is that you, my child?" Albus took a step towards James, who took a quick step backwards and shook his head.

"Albus, it's James. James Potter. I'm afraid that even now… dead… you will not see Harry" James took a step forward and escorted Ablus to the chair he had vacated "Souls at an uncomprehensive stage are Dissolved. Harry no longer exists" which was one of the reasons he had taken this job to begin with.

Albus seemed to be gaining an understanding of what was going on around him, rather the opposite to what should be happening. The old man now had a familiar twinkle in his eyes, even if he fully allowed James to help him into the comfortable chair.

"Ah, James. It has been a long time indeed" James felt himself nodding in agreement, despite his worries for Dumbledore's resistance to the spells automatically placed on all who die without consulting oracles.

"Yes, but fifteen years has passed very quickly here, Albus. Longer for you than I, I think" James said softly as he looked around for a chair to position himself in. Dumbledore smiled serenely, his previously lost composure back in working order.

"We have much to discuss, James. Much to discuss."

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_To be continued… (soon – as this was incredibly microspcipacally small-like) _


	5. The Beads

**A Magical Life:**

**By **Tumblequ  
With love

* * *

_Ancient times were the youth of the world_

- Francis Bacon, _De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum_

**Chapter THREE**

_The Beads_

As the days wore on, a daily routine was established between the three friends and the rest of the household. Breakfast was a joint meal and held at seven am sharp. Tonks and Remus often came around quite early in the morning to discuss things with Mr and Mrs Weasley, and invariably decided to stay for breakfast.

On these occasions Tonks was often ensorcelled away to 'play' with the three seventeen year olds. Play time consisted of barrages of spells flying, depending on the day, both _at_ and _away_ from Tonks. The bright and bubbly auror had commented on how proud she was at the rate of improvement the three had.

After her third visit Tonks found herself commenting on how fast the three were progressing.

"You seem to be putting a lot of effort into this, Harry. You do know that _He _isn't your responsibility, don't you?" Tonks said softly enough so that the three teens could hear her crystal clearly. Harry's movements stopped immediately, and he stared at Tonks with such wide eyes that for a moment the woman found herself doubting her own words.

There was silence as Ron and Hermione waited to see how Harry would react. Previous experience told them it would not be well, but a deeper instinct was informing them that Harry had in fact changed a great deal, even since the beginning of the previous school year.

Neither of them wanted to reflect for too long on the reason for this change.

"It's important to me, Tonks. You have to understand that if it wasn't personal before now…" Harry didn't finish the sentence, and to be honest; he didn't need to.

The auror nodded her understanding. Revenge was a good enough reason for anything in her profession. Anything that motivated the aurors was blindly encouraged by the senior staff members, who were always on the look out for potentially strong members of the force.

If it got you fighting well enough to save your own arse, then it was good enough motivation.

There wasn't much time to comment, as Remus opened the door to the room they had been practicing in with a smile at Tonks and the other three.

"Ready to go?" he asked with a secretive smile at Tonks, before turning to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"You three have been working Tonks too hard, she's always exhausted when she comes out. I think you're taking this 'coming of age' thing a little seriously, Harry" Remus said with a smile, before waving at the trio and beckoning Tonks to follow him.

"I just wanted to make a quick stop in with Mad-eye before we…" his voice trailed off as they walked down the hallway, leaving the trio behind.

Ron sat down with a sigh of relief and Hermione followed him slowly, perching on the back of a solid diamond chair. Harry leaned against the closest wall with a small smirk playing across his lips. As she looked up and saw him, Hermione couldn't hold the giggle in.

Harry straightened with a look of confusion and mild hurt.

"What?"

"Oh, honestly Harry! You looked like one of those bad-guy people from the movies" Hermione said, and promptly began imitating him, complete with overdone evil-but-hot look and superior 'glare', even throwing in a fake cigarette puff. Ron laughed and nodded while Harry blushed violently.

"Can I help it if that's who I am?" Harry asked defensively, attempting to keep a straight face as his friends fell in bouts of giggles to the floor.

After an appropriate time of watching his friends laugh at him, Harry sat down and glowered at them. A few more seconds past before they realised that Harry was getting bored of the 'joke'

They rearranged themselves so that they were seated in a three-person circle. Sharing significant looks they quietened down until Harry's future profession as a Movie Star was forgotten and they were focusing on a much _closer _future.

Hermione put her hand into her pocket, before pulling out a shiny gold galleon.

"We need to call the DA" she said firmly. Harry nodded his agreement and Ron looked like he and Hermione had already discussed the subject, and he was in complete agreement with the bushy brunette.

"I think that it was a mistake last year, not continuing. And we need to speak to the senior members about going back to school" Harry said as he toyed with his own galleon, not ready to meet Hermione and Ron's eyes.

It had been _his _fault they had not continued with the DA last year, and the fact that had there been more reinforcements to help them stop Malfoy had been plaguing his conscience.

Hermione pulled out her wand.

"I was thinking how we could do it – the galleons only show a date. We can't exactly meed up in the room of requirement so how would they know where to come? I also thought that surely some of their families would be in hiding and we may not be able to find them at all, unless we already have an existing link, like the galleons. The only problem is, I can't change the settings on the galleons unless I have them all here, so I can't name a place." Hermione finished with an expectant look at the two boys.

"What about asking the adults?" Ron asked unenthusiastically, seemingly already knowing his suggestion was not the answer to their problem.

Hermione shook her head smugly.

"So we can't contact them?" again, Ron's voice sounded incredulous, and somewhat annoyed.

Hermione gave him a mischievous look.

"Now, I _didn't _say that"

Harry rolled his eyes at their banter and nudged Hermione to explain, curious about what she had planned.

"Well, I'll admit it, for a while I was a little down about it. After all, why _wouldn't _they go back? They each understand the need to learn everything they can for this war, and nothing their parents say will stop them, whatever the adults think" Hermione paused, and Ron and Harry nodded agreement, understanding where she was coming from.

"But then I thought, if Hogwarts _is _reopening then that means school letters. And school letters means they have to be delivered to each of the seventh years. And that means that we can hijack them" she finished victoriously, looking to Harry and Ron for their reactions.

Ron looked slightly confused, and Harry was frowning.

"Hermione, if _we _can hijack the owls, what is it that's stopping _Voldemort _from hijacking them?" Harry asked, concern showing clearly in his voice. Ron too had spotted the obvious problem and was frowning, trying to figure out the answer (if there was one) to Harry's question.

Hermione nodded her agreement, before tapping one finger against her nose.

"Contacts. We can't ask the adult a la direct, but we can say 'oh we have some friends we have letters for, do you think we could send them with the school owls…?' and they say 'yes, of course dear, missing your friends…'" Hermione trailed off suggestively.

Harry was grinning, but Ron was still looking concerned.

"And if they check the letters we send?" he asked.

Hermione smiled again, stood up and walked over to her bag, producing an enormous book entitled: _The Art of Trickery and Deceit in Publishing_.

The two boys traded identical looks of disbelief and surprise.

"You want us the _read_ that?" Harry asked, the disbelief flowing from him. Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

"No. I already have, and I've market the spells that we're going to need. As well as the potions… Harry, I was wondering though… do you still have The Princes… or Snape's, really… book?" Hermione asked, her voice lowering at the end of the question. Harry's face clouded over with absolute loathing, and both Ron and Hermione were afraid that he was going to spit at the sound of the name.

But he nodded, quite reluctantly.

Hermione sighed in relief.

"Thank god, the potions are complicated and… well… I can't help thinking that Snape really _is _very good at potions, even if he isn't good at… well… _life_" Hermione said, certainly sounding relieved, but possibly more at the fact that Harry (who was becoming extremely good at blasting hex's) had not blown her head off for even asking.

With a quick nod to Ron and Hermione, Harry sped upstairs to where his trunk lay, completely back to normal and grabbed the aforementioned book. He was back in a matter of minutes.

As he returned Hermione looked up expectantly and smiled as she saw the battered textbook in his hands. She indicated the page the _Trickery and Deceit_ book was on and Harry walked over to have a look at the spell.

He read over it three times before groaning out loud and turning to Hermione once more.

"Do we have to use such advanced charms? These are going to be _very _hard to learn if we have to send them before our Hogwarts letters are due to arrive…" Harry paused suddenly, a look of horror washing across his features as he realised something "come to think of it: shouldn't our letters have arrived already? They're never normally this late! Do you think they've already been sent out? And we didn't get any because we have the Order to tell us what's happening?" Harry finished breathlessly, but Hermione's look of scepticism hadn't changed.

"I asked Mrs Weasley about that, actually, and she said there was a delay because of something about the quill that writes the letters having been lost in all the confusion. She sounded quite… disturbed actually, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost think _they _think that the quill has been stolen" Hermione sighed, but shrugged "at least that buy's us some more time, but not too much. We need to ask Mrs Weasley, or better: McGonagall, this evening at dinner – I can't help thinking that the deadline may have been delayed, but it's not infinite"

Harry scowled good-naturedly, trust Hermione to speak to the adults before she even suggested – well – speaking to them. Although the thing about the quill sure did sound… off.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a _quill _though? It's not any real, well, dangerous magic is it?" he asked, suddenly realising Ron was not in the room and looking around to see if he had missed the red-head (as unlikely as the idea seemed).

Hermione nodded eagerly to his question.

"Well, I happened to overhear McGonagall talking to Mr Weasley, of all people, about it. She said that it was enchanted to give the _exact location _of every child who was attending Hogwarts this year" at Harry's shocked gasp she nodded gravely.

"But the thing is, Professor McGonagall was saying that it won't work outside _her _room, because apparently the spell isn't on the actual quill – it's on the room. Fascinating, isn't it?" Hermione certainly seemed intrigued, but Harry was less than thrilled.

"And if someone _copied _the spell? Or is _still in the room?_" he asked, obviously thinking that the second the quill was found it had to be destroyed, as something as powerful as that could not be allowed to continue on.

Hermione gave him a bland look as Ron finally re-entered the room, his arms full of Potion ingredients, as well as a tiny cauldron. All of which he dumped in a heap in front of Hermione.

The brunette gave him a disgruntled look before turning back to Harry to answer his question.

"Not only does the person who stole it, _if anyone stole it_, not _know _it can't work outside the room, they don't know the spell that makes it work _inside _the room. As well as that the spell that makes it work is very complicated, and it has a signature. Only the spell, cast by McGonagall, in the next" she consulted her wristwatch "oh… I don't know… eighty-four hours? Will be able to work. And it quite literally can't be in the room as not only the _wards_ say it isn't, but the spell that makes it work says it isn't, and _that_ cannot be tricked _or_ fooled, especially since no-one but, McGonagall, Mr Weasley and us three know of it's existence" she finished smartly with a swish of her wand to organise the ingredients piled in front of her.

Harry and Ron exchanged startled looks, before grinning at each other.

An hour later found the threesome clustered around a bubbling cauldron looking dubiously at the potion inside.

Two books lay open next to the cauldron; one where they had found the initial recipe for the _'Can't-see-me_' (_figuarita) _potion, a thick tomb that looked as if it could be a bed-side dresser it was so tall, and a tatty old textbook open to a page that looked as though there was no writing at the very back of the book.

The potion in the small cauldron was bubbling quietly, looking almost good enough to eat. It was transparent like water, but clouded with orange so that it looked like diluted fanta. There was no smell, and none of them had been brave enough to taste it after the recipe book had informed them they would fall into a coma for the next twenty-hours for each sip they took.

A stack of prepared letters stood silently near-by, phrases leaping out at them whenever they glanced over.

"I think it's done" Hermione muttered softly, looking at the potion gleefully.

The two boys nodded equally as eagerly, but stayed quiet – not wanting to call any adults to the room and blow their cover.

"Right you two, one drop per sheet of paper. No more, otherwise the next person to touch it will be invisible for a day. And I don't think the adults'll miss _that _one" Hermione said as she scooped us a small amount of the potion and handed them two miniature ladles.

There were seventeen letters in total, all saying the exact same thing (with only a few personalised touches for their closer friends) and the boys split them in half while Hermione bottled the remainder of the potion in tiny, tiny bottles no bigger than _half _of Harry's pinkie's finger nail.

As soon as Harry dropped one drop on Luna's letter, the small globule spread until the paper looked as if there was nothing written on it at all. As Harry watched however, his own handwriting began to start out, writing a completely different (and innocent) letter.

When they had all completed their separate tasks they regrouped, Hermione holding a handful of small glass beads, Ron and Harry a stack of letters each.

Hermione beamed at them and distributed the beads.

"Unbreakable charm on them. Which means they won't break" she said happily as Ron and Harry exchanged annoyed looks. "Small enough that they won't be noticed. If you're in trouble and you want to be unconscious, just take a swig of one" a small, devious smile curled around her lips "you'll look like you're dead. There are no indications, as this isn't the proper use of this potion, not even _Snape _will know why you've suddenly 'died'"

The fact that Hermione was thinking about possible capture – _planning_ on possible capture sapped the room of victory, and Harry sat down heavily.

"And how do we hide them?" he asked gravely.

Hermione nodded at his tone, apparently finding it the best suiting. She pulled out a simple chain from her pocket.

"I can make mine into jewellery, but I figured you two wouldn't like that. And guys" she waited for them to look back up at her "there will be more of them: different potions, for different things. Alright?" the gravity of the situation seemed to have sunk into all three as Ron and Harry nodded slowly, obviously trying to turn their own minds to the problem.

"For now" Hermione continued "you can keep them in the hems of your robes, or even in your pockets. But as we make more you'll need a proper hiding spot, okay?" again the boys nodded slowly.

"Right. Are you ready then?" more nods.

Harry was examining the small glass bead. It really was no bigger than 5mm by 5mm, and was perfectly round. It didn't look like it could hold more than, at the maximum, four drops of any potion. Harry thought back to his potions class with reluctance and tried to think of potions that could be so potent as to only need one or two drops. In total, he came up with three. But deciding Hermione must know what she was doing, he followed his two best friends downstairs.

As he arrived he was surprised to see Hermione speaking with Professor McGonagall and traded startled looks with Ron, who was looking as if they had suddenly had a very close call.

"Ah! Hermione, I thought you had changed your mind about sending those letters, I was just about to post the school ones off" Professor McGonagall said with a gentle smile at the young witch as she rushed forward to present a bundle of parchment.

"Oh no! I'm glad we caught you! We didn't think they'd be sent off today… It's lucky the boys weren't lazy and put them off until tomorrow!"

As Hermione handed them to her, Minerva noticed that her hands seemed to be tinged strangely orange.

"Whatever happened to your hands, Miss Granger?" she asked, curiously picking up Hermione's hands to inspect them. "They do rather seem to be orange" there was something… nagging at the back of her mind that told her Hermione's hands should definitely _not be orange_ because… she simply couldn't place it.

Hermione was blushing prettily, obviously embarrassed to have been caught at some wrong by her professor.

"Oh, Harry was practicing a distortion spell on me, and he didn't get it quite right" Hermione said, shooting Harry, who had walked into the room straight after, her an apologetic look. It was true… in some ways. Harry _had_ been practicing distortion spells on her – except they had all gone perfectly.

Professor McGonagall was giving Harry a stern look.

"Mr Potter, perhaps in the future you might want to make sure you are efficient in using a spell before you cause potential damage to your friends" she turned back to Hermione "I will have to check your letters before I send them, but I am sure they will all be fine. Well, I shall be off; I was leaving just as you three arrived – just in the nick of time" she gave them all a warm, if still stern smile and swept out of the room.

The three gave each other furtivly pleased looks and fell together in an attempt at a group high-five that just ended in a knot of hands.

Ron's voice could be heard over the giggling.

"We did it!"

"Let's hope it works" was Hermione's soft reminder.

"Well, we'll know tomorow" Harry put in, his eyes connecting meaninfully with both of his friends.

They nodded their solumn agreement.

* * *

_To be continued…_


End file.
